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I’m not foolish enough to believe that the money I have really matters to her, outside of the fact that I can use it to take care of her mother in the best way possible.
Because the money wasn’t what Paisley cared about, even when it was what mattered most.
But unfortunately, I can’t give her the one thing she wants more than anything. No one can.
But if all I ever do is help her realize she doesn’t need to keep a record, a score of her worth, then that will be enough for me.
“You are exceptional, dusha moya.” I curve my hand along the side of her face, running my thumb over the softness of her skin. “No collection of numbers will ever make it more true.”
She leans into my touch. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“Are you two just going to stand out here all night canoodling, or can we actually get to have this party?” LaShawn stands just outside the French doors leading to the room I rented for the evening. The glass of champagne in her hand proves the party has already begun, even without us.
“We’re coming.” Paisley links my fingers with hers and pulls me toward the room.
I came to tour this place on one of the many mornings she spent tucked in bed with her mother, but tonight it looks much different. The lights are low, with most of the illumination brightening the room coming from the glow of the white Christmas lights strung across the exposed metalwork of the ceiling. The tables are all draped in white cloth and flameless candles sit in clusters at the center of each one. Even the Christmas trees in the corners are white, flocked to the point they look fluffy, and covered with white lights and ornaments in silver and gold.
Paisley stands and stares, eyes bouncing around the space as she takes it all in.
I lean into her ear. “Do you like it?”
She blinks a few times before turning to me. “I love it.” She pushes onto her toes and presses a kiss to my lips. “I love it so much.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” I love you.
It slips free and I don’t try to stop it. If Paisley can be brave enough to embrace who she is and everything around her, then so can I.
“Here.” LaShawn presses a flute of champagne into Paisley’s hand before dragging her away, shooting me a wink over one shoulder as they go. “We’re going to go dance. You can have her back later.” She drags Paisley to where Rhonda and Tamara are spinning around the floor with Julian and his wife.
“She looks happy.” Victor stands at my side, surveying the room.
I tip my head. “I think she’s as happy as she can be given the circumstances.”
“She’s going to be devastated when her mother dies.”
The thought makes my chest ache. “I know.”
Victor studies me for a minute. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How will you be when Rhonda dies?”
I turn toward where the women are dancing, each one taking turns spinning Rhonda’s chair under the twirling lights. “Fine.”
Victor huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.
I turn to face him. “What?”
“I thought you were moving past pretending you didn’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. Apparently I was wrong.”
I want to focus on the part about me not giving a shit about anyone but myself, but something else trips me up. “Pretending?”
“I told you,” Victor sips at the drink in his hand, making me wait for the rest of the explanation, “you don’t have as many secrets as you think you do.” He shifts his eyes from the dance floor to mine. “I found out what really happened the day Sebastian was killed.”
The mention of that day sours my already teetering mood.
“He stepped in front of you.” Victor continues on, either oblivious to or uncaring about the fact that I’m not interested in revisiting that moment right now.
